


Time spent with a cat is never wasted

by fated13th



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Domesticity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated13th/pseuds/fated13th
Summary: Octavia signs Bellamy up for cat-sitting for Clarke over the holidays. It was supposed to be a one time thing...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bellarke Secret Santa gift for alfrette over on tumblr. Hope you enjoy!

Bellamy let out a breath of relief closing the door behind him as he left the Swing House. He loved the place, he swore he did, but around the holidays it got way too loud and crowded. Miller’s boyfriend was over all the time, cooking and baking since they had a better kitchen than at his apartment. Miller himself was picking up extra hours whenever he could so he could afford to take off when it mattered, which meant he was an extra grump whenever he was at home. Murphy’s room didn’t get heat so he was constantly curled up on the couch snarking at everyone. Sometimes his girlfriend Emori would have come over to join him and two snarky philosophy majors was two too many. Raven would come over to blow off steam on their gaming systems after crazy study sessions for finals, Gina usually in tow. At least all the extra bodies meant that they could continue to keep the heat on low so their bill wouldn’t skyrocket. But it did mean that Bellamy was thankful whenever he had to go to class or work or had some other reason to get out of the house.

This morning he was escaping the house to meet Octavia for their weekly brunch. Once a week the two siblings would choose a new brunch location, meet up, eat and mock at the stereotypical brunchers around them while also catching up, a tradition they started once O refused to come over to the Swing House, declaring it a den of ill health and disgust. It was a far cry from how he used to make her a waffle breakfast Saturday mornings but it was better than nothing. Hanging out with O and being scathingly judgemental of others with her was so fun it more than made up for the chunk such outings took from his paychecks.

Octavia was already at Luna’s Cafe on the Avenue, this week’s restaurant pick, waving at him through the window to join her. He walked in, excusing himself through the line of people still waiting for tables, to join her. She offered him one of the two mimosas in front of her. “How do you find these places?” he asked, with a shake of his head.

“I overheard this girl in class, Harper, raving about this one,” Octavia said, taking a sip of her drink. “Apparently the avocado toast is to die for.” She rolled her eyes. “I went ahead and ordered you your pancakes.”

“Chocolate chip?”

“Chocolate chip. With extra whipped cream,” O confirmed.

“Awesome. And you got?” While Bellamy stuck with the tried-and-true staple of chocolate chip pancakes, his sister was more adventurous, never ordering the same thing twice in a row.

“The nutella stuffed french toast.”

“Decadent.”

“That’s what brunch is for, after all.” She grinned lazily. “So, brother of mine, you’re still planning on sticking around for Thanksgiving, right?”

Bellamy snorted. “Where else would I go? I’ve only got a couple days off from classes and work wanted me to come pick up a couple extra shifts. And it’s too late to go making plans, it’s just like next week. You’re still doing that hiking trip, right?”

“Yeah. Heading out the 23rd, will be back by the time classes start back up. Glad that you’re still sticking around. I told Clarke you’d cat-sit for her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You told who what?”

Octavia rolled her eyes again. “I told Clarke you’d feed her cat over break. She’ll pay you for your trouble. I figured you wouldn’t mind the extra cash for little work.”

“You can’t just sign me up for things, O,” Bellamy said grumpily.

“You signed me up for things all through my childhood I didn’t want to do,” she replied airily. 

He supposed that was a fair point. “How much cash?”

“It’s negotiable. More than worth it though,” Octavia said. “She just needs you to check in on the cat once a day, feed him, maybe play with him. Half hour out of your day tops. She’s got one of the nice one-bedrooms in the apartments by Jaha Hall, so not too far out of your way.”

Bellamy whistled. He knew exactly what apartments she was talking about. And they were nice. He had looked at trying to get Octavia a place there when she started school at Ark University since it was right by campus and in a safe area but it was way out of their price range. He had known Clarke’s family had money so he wasn’t too surprised, but still, it sounded like a pretty sweet set up. “Sounds like the easiest money I’ll make that week. I’ll do it.”

“Good. I gave her your number and said you’d be free to meet up and discuss things this afternoon.” 

“O, I’ve got to go to the library this afternoon,” Bellamy said, although he was distracted by the waiter bringing their food. “Thanks.”

After the waiter left, Octavia said, “The books won’t miss you for an hour, Bell, stop being such a nerd. Now, don’t look now, but that table to our left is full of career brunchers, instagramming away. I almost feel sorry for them, the lighting in here is terrible.”

  
  


By the time they had finished their food, Clarke had already texted him her address and to see when he’d be able to swing by. O had been right, the books would still be at the library if he got there later than he had originally planned (probably; there was one he hadn’t managed to reserve but hoped no one else would think to use for the paper Pike had assigned), so he checked if she was free now and if he could go ahead and swing by. She answered in the affirmative and messaged her address.

“Want to come with?” Bellamy asked O, as they made their way out of the crowded little cafe and onto the street.

“Nah. I’ve already got plans,” she replied.

“I had plans,” he pointed out.

“You had books,” she corrected. “Plans involve other people.” She kissed him on the cheek before taking off. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Be good!” he called out to her retreating form.

“No!” she shouted back with a laugh.

He finished the familiar call and response. “Then be good at it!” She threw her arm up in a salute and he watched her retreating form with a smile before plugging Clarke’s address into his phone for directions.

Half an hour later he reached her building’s door and called up to her apartment. “Hey Clarke, it’s Bellamy, here to meet the cat and all.” After a moment there was a little buzz and he could hear the door’s lock release so he pushed his way inside. The hallways were carpeted with flooring that reminded him of a hotel, a bizarre geometric pattern, but was obviously newer and better cared for. The lighting was also pleasant; Bellamy wondered what light bulbs the fixtures were using. He made his way up to apartment three hundred and knocked on the door, suddenly feeling slightly nervous. He wasn’t expecting to deal with people when he left the house this morning, brunch notwithstanding. He had met Clarke before; his group of friends and Octavia’s overlapped somewhat and so it wasn’t rare for them both to show up when a group gathered for drinks. It wasn’t like this would be a first impression moment, but they had always bickered about something or other, usually unimportant but always enthusiastic. And as this was their first one on one interaction, he wished he had maybe looked in the mirror before heading out.

Luckily, when she opened the door, Clarke looked as put together as he felt, dressed simply in a shirt and some paint-splattered pants, hair thrown up in a messy bun. “Hey! Come on in!” she invited him, while trying to also shove something away from the door with her feet. “Sorry, close the door right behind you please. The cat likes to try to escape.” Bellamy did as instructed, coming in and closing the door firmly behind him, and heard a meow by his feet. Clarke swept the cat into her arms. “Bellamy, this is Cat. Cat, Bellamy.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You named your cat ‘Cat’?”

“Like you’re so good at names, Mr. I-Named-My-Sister-Octavia,” she retorted.

“I didn’t name her Sissy,” he pointed out, reaching over to scratch the tabby cat behind the ears. “Or Girl. Octavia is a good strong name, it has a solid history behind it. Cat is just what kind of animal it is.” Cat batted at his hand and meowed, stretching and wriggling its way out of Clarke’s arms, gracefully landing on all fours on the floor. Meowing again, the cat wound its way around Bellamy’s legs.

Clarke shrugged. “I thought I’d come up with a name after getting to know him better that would fit his personality. Cat just seemed to fit best. But, yeah, he’s a friendly fellow. I’ve got treats for people to give him to bribe him into liking them but the only person he’s ever seriously taken issue with is Octavia.” She gave him a measuring look. “Glad it’s not a family thing. Um, would you like a tour? Not that there’s much to show, but…”

“Sure,” Bellamy said awkwardly. 

“Great. So this is obviously the living room. Couch. Tv. I’ve got the basic cable package, if you’ve got a show you wanted to watch while Cat eats supper or whatever. To the right is the kitchen, as you can see. Fridge, stove, trash, recycling,” she said gesturing, leading him around the small apartment. “Cat’s food and water dishes are right here, out of the way. I keep his food on top of the fridge so he can’t get at it. Just one scoop a day should be fine. I sometimes give him a third of a can of Friskies if I feel like he’s been good, so feel free to do that. It’s kept in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever food is in the fridge, I’m going to try to eat it all before I go but would rather you eat it than it go bad. Um. Internet password is on the fridge. Bathroom is where the litterbox is, it’s straight down this measly excuse of a hallway, and that’s my bedroom off it to the right. Cat has free range of the place.”

“Cool.” Bellamy stood there, glancing around. It was definitely a nicer place than he had ever lived in, all the appliances still retaining that shine that bespoke newness rather than cleanliness. It also seemed larger than the apartment him and O had grown up with, despite it being a single-bedroom. Clarke had put up some art on the walls, although none of that commercial crap you saw in stores. “O didn’t give me much detail. You’re gone for the whole week?” Cat had jumped onto the back of the couch and was staring at him.

“Yeah. Leaving Friday night, gone until the Sunday after, so that’s like ten days. Twenty bucks a day, two hundred dollars all right?” Clarke asked.

“I’m not going to argue you down,” Bellamy said with a grin. “For that sort of money you have any plants that need watering?”

She laughed. “I tried those when I first moved out and couldn’t keep anything alive. Cat’s easier; he’ll let me know when he’s hungry. Plants just wither and die without complaint.”

After a couple more minutes of somewhat awkward small-talk, Clarke gave him her spare set of keys and he finally made his way to the library. When Bellamy had left, he allowed himself a small moment of victory; he felt he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself and had a pretty cushy gig set up for break.

  
  


Saturday morning Bellamy swung by Clarke’s apartment on the way to work. It was strange without her there; he felt like an intruder, a feeling that was extenuated by how he hadn’t spoken to her since they last parted ways. But Cat seemed happy to see him, winding himself around his legs, meowing in a demand for food. Bellamy fed him a cat treat so he wouldn’t trip over the animal while putting food in the actual bowl. The whole affair took him five minutes and then he was out.

Sunday he went on the way to library. Cat didn’t meow at him so much this time, but stood up, placing his paws on Bellamy’s knees, as if begging for a treat. “Get off,” he said gruffly, gently shoving the cat back on the ground as he made his way into the kitchen to fill the bowls. While filling up the water bowl at the sink, he looked at all the items on her fridge. There were a couple photos, some notes in various handwriting, a couple take-out menus, and an envelope with his name written in all caps on the front. After finishing with the cat, he took the envelope off and opened it, finding a brief letter inside, a repeat of instructions and a hundred dollars (“ _ half up front, half when I return; there’s also pie in the fridge that needs eating _ ”). Bellamy glanced in the fridge and found that there was a quarter of a lemon meringue pie sitting inside. He hadn’t eaten breakfast too long ago himself so he made a mental note for later, put the money in his wallet, and left after finishing up with the cat, who meowed at him as he made his way to the door, stopping only when he scratched him behind the ears. “It’s okay, bud, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

His time at the library was only semi-fruitful. Between construction and other students, there weren’t any study spaces available and half of the library was roped off. He managed to find a couple books that weren’t there the other day and took them home with him.

Home to the busy, loud, overcrowded house. Even in his room he could hear Murphy, Emori, and Raven shouting at each other while playing video games. The smell of fresh bread cooking wafted through the crack under the door while the cold wind outside was blowing at his window. He couldn’t concentrate whatsoever and ended up texting Octavia instead. After a few minutes of his complaining, she told him to “just go find somewhere else to be a nerd.” He knew Lincoln was over at her place, so he didn’t even want to ask her if he could come over. After a moment’s thought, it hit him: he could go to Clarke’s. She wasn’t there, obviously, and didn’t mind him over there. He had a key. There was pie in the fridge over there. He could even play with Cat. It’d be a great solution. As long as he didn’t move things out of place or anything, he was sure he’d be fine. So he once again filled his backpack and made his way to Clarke’s apartment. 

Despite just seeing Cat that morning, the feline still seemed ecstatic to see him. “I’m not feeding you,” Bellamy told him. “I’m just here to study.” Easier said than done, he discovered. He had never had a pet of his own before and didn’t realize how much of a pain they could be. Cat kept trying to sit on his opened books, getting in the way of his computer screen, attacking his hands when Bellamy was trying to type. He soon gave in and just played with the cat. He found a basket of toys and tried out each one, scientifically narrowing down which one would tire out Cat first with minimum effort on his own part.

An hour later he was back to studying, only his time one-handed. The other hand held a pole with a string attached. On the end of the string was a little corn-husk bird. Every now and then he’d jerk it and Cat would pounce. It was the most success he’d had. Unlike a dog, Cat wouldn’t bring back the little jingle balls, simply looking at Bellamy once they rolled past. The other toys held Cat’s attention for an equally short amount of time or took too much of Bellamy’s attention to operate. He felt operating the pole was a small cost to pay for a nice, warm, quiet place to study. And there was even pie.

Using Clarke’s place as a refuge became commonplace over the next week. It became habit for him to make his way there after work and spend hours on the couch studying. He finished off the pie. He made use of the Chinese delivery menus on the fridge. He discovered that she had a cable package and started having the Food Network on as background noise. He even napped on the couch a couple of times, although not for long as Cat would come try to lay on his head and suffocate him. He left a couple of his books there on the coffee table so he wouldn’t have to lug them back and forth. He even became fond of Cat and his annoying attention-hogging tendencies. 

He had practically forgotten that this was a temporary job. Not that he had forgotten that this was Clarke’s place; it reeked of her personality. The art on the walls that he had become familiar with bore what he assumed was her signature scribbled in the bottom left corners: C. Griffin. The books on the shelves, and there were several bookcases of various sizes scattered across the living area, varied in subject, from ya fiction to medical journals to books on art. She didn’t have any dvds on display and Bellamy didn’t go snooping around for them, but he was sure that they’d also seem an eclectic collection. Although she had obviously cleaned the place before she left, he still found sketching pencils and erasers scattered about on various surfaces and he once woke up from a brief nap on the couch to find a stub of a pencil caught in his hair.

S o when Bellamy received a text from Clarke saying that she was coming back a day early so there was no need for him to come over and feed Cat Saturday, he moped. He swung by her place early Saturday morning anyways, hoping she hadn’t gotten home quite yet, to make sure he hadn’t left a mess and to pick up a couple of his books he left on the coffee table,  and to give Cat a proper goodbye. The rest of the day, however, was spent back at his own place, still full of noise and people and chaos.

“Girl of the week finally come to her senses?” Murphy asked upon noticing Bellamy’s presence.

" About time,” Emori said from her place on the couch. “We haven’t seen you like all week!”

Bellamy simply scowled at them, knowing there was no point in arguing with them. 

“Come join in a game,” Raven offered, gesturing towards a fourth controller on the ground by the tv. “It’ll be cathartic.” 

Since his other options mainly included holing up in his cold room, he huffed, grabbed the controller, and joined the game. Raven was right, it did feel pretty awesome beating the other three.

On Sunday after leaving the library, he caught himself walking to Clarke’s apartment. Upon realization of his route and remembering that she was now home, that that was no longer a place he could just go and hang out, he immediately fixed his direction, heading home instead, pulling his coat tighter around him in the cold.

Monday he went to Clarke’s but only because that was the pre-determined time for them to meet and check in over how the week went. When he was almost there, she texted him that she was running late and to just let himself in when he arrived. He still knocked first on the door and waited for a reply before using the key she gave him, probably for the last time. The apartment was much the same as he had left it, although things had been shifted and it now actually looked like someone lived there, rather than a set of photos for some fancy decor magazine. Although he had spent most of the last week within these walls, he once again felt awkward and like an invader.

Cat would have none of that though, meowing and headbutting Bellamy’s leg as if he hadn’t seen another human being since he left. Bellamy picked the cat up and that silenced him. He checked the food and water bowls, both of which, while not full, had obviously been filled earlier that day. “Come off it, Cat, you’re fine.” He took a seat on the couch and Cat jumped from his lap to sit next to him instead, although insistent that the petting continued. He checked his phone again to see if Clarke had texted him a time estimate. She hadn’t, so he shrugged and switched on the tv, finding it still on the Food Network like he had left it. 

When he heard the door open, he practically jumped out of his seat and immediately shut off the tv. Cat gave him a disgusted look and jumped off the couch with a meow, going to wind himself around Clarke’s legs instead. “Sorry,” he found himself apologizing.

She waved him off. “I didn’t even realize I had the Food Network,” she told him. “Now I think I’m addicted. My own kitchen is going to start feeling neglected soon.” She dumped her purse on the bar dividing the kitchen and living room and dug in it for her wallet. “Thanks so much for taking care of Cat for me. I’d’ve taken him with me but even just the cat fur on my clothes made my mother’s nose run whenever she got close to me.” Her smile took on a sharp edge. “Had her popping allergy pills the whole week.” 

“Happy to help,” Bellamy said. “He’s a nice cat and it’s a nice place. It was cool just hanging out with him.”

Clarke glanced down at her pet and raised an eyebrow. “Tricked him into becoming your friend, did you Cat?” She looked back up at Bellamy. “He needs more friends to play with. I feel bad for leaving him alone so much during the days. I’ve thought about getting a second cat but I don’t know if I can handle two. This mister can be difficult enough.”

“Yeah, no worries, it was fun.” Bellamy stuck his hands in his pocket, not knowing what else to do with them. “Believe it or not, even when lying on my computer, he was less disruptive than my housemates.”

She laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Murphy will kick my books around while Raven tells me how wrong all my work is,” Bellamy said. “Cat here was peaceful in comparison.”

“That’s not a phrase I’ve heard used to describe him before,” Clarke said, handing him two fifty dollar bills. “I can’t believe he’s got you fooled.”

“I can’t believe you’ve paid me two hundred dollars to feed him,” Bellamy replied, exchanging the spare key for the money. “I should be thanking you.”

Clarke simply shook her head. “Worth it. So I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Bellamy tried not to drag his feet on his way out, taking a quick detour to scratch the cat behind the ears. “Bye buddy.”

  
  


Bellamy was frustrated. Sure, he always knew his living situation was not perfect, but that was just life. He knew he was lucky to have a place where he could sleep in a house with people who’d help pay rent and not kill him in his sleep and steal all his things and organs to sell on the black market. He still knew this. But now his housemates were grating on his nerves. It was probably just the weather and the stress from finals and work but rationalizing it didn’t make it any better. So one evening when he received a text from Clarke asking him if he could swing by her place to feed Cat since she got pulled into an unexpected double-shift, he jumped at the opportunity.

_T_ _ hanks, spare key under doormat _ , she texted him.

_ Really? That’s the first place any thief would look _ , he texted back.  _ How long is your shift? _

_ I won’t get home til after midnight and I didn’t think to stock Cat’s bowl this morning. _

Awesome. He could take advantage of her place for a couple hours and she’d never know.  _ Don’t worry, I got this _ .

_ I owe you one _ .

_ It’s on the house. _

  
  


After the third time this happened, Clarke told him to just keep the spare key. “It’s safer with you than under the doormat anyways,” she told him the next time they saw each other, a gathering of friends at their usual bar. She looked exhausted and didn’t stay long, begging off after only an hour. Between school and work, he knew how she felt. 

He asked Octavia at their weekly brunch if Clarke was doing alright. She gave him a strange look in response. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“She’d just tell me she’s fine and then say something like ‘history is boring’,” Bellamy answered. “You’re her friend, you know how she is.”

His sister’s eyebrow remained raised. “You have a key to her place. You’re her friend too, you know.”

“I know,” he said, although he hadn’t, “but can’t you just tell me?”

After a few moments, O carefully said, “She got in a fight with her mom and so her finances took a hit. She’s trying to work more hours and still stay on top of schoolwork.”

He nodded, ingesting the information. Moving the conversation along, he changed the topic, “And how are your classes going?”

  
  


Bellamy noticed that Clarke’s apartment was getting more and more untidy whenever she asked him to swing by and feed Cat. He knew how difficult it was to make ends meet and try to keep up appearances. He got into the habit of taking care of whatever dishes were in the kitchen and then playing with Cat for a few minutes before settling onto the couch with the Food Network and his homework for a couple of hours. In return, Clarke usually instructed him to eat whatever food was in the fridge. Her texts would read  _ Could you pls swing by and take care of Cat? There’s pizza in the freezer  _ or  _ Feed Cat again please? Pasta alfredo on second shelf of fridge _ . Once even  _ Cat and cake? _

He was usually pretty good about gathering his stuff and getting out of the apartment before Clarke was even close to getting home. Once he accidentally left a draft of an essay on the coffee table and the next day when he swung by to check up on Cat (it was becoming a near daily occurrence) and to look for his missing paper, he found it stuck to the fridge with edits written in red pen.

It was about this point that he realized that he and Clarke were being ridiculously domestic for two people who barely spent an hour a week together in person, despite their now near-constant texting. His housemates teased him for being in an affair with a married person who kicked him out to sleep in his own bed every evening. Octavia had an extra side of judgement at their weekly brunches, usually advising him to just ask Clarke out already. Bellamy just ignored them all. What he had going was good. He didn’t want to make things weird between him and Clarke, which is what would surely happen if he did ask her out and she turned him down. Or, worse, accepted merely out of a sense of obligation to pay him back.

When he woke up one evening on her couch after having passed out from not sleeping for two days due to midterms with Clarke hovering over him with two steaming mugs, he realized they should probably talk about it. He blearily sat up, disrupting Cat from his chest, and accepted the cup she offered, which, upon minor investigation, he discovered held hot chocolate. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he apologized. The Food Network was still playing in the background; he wondered how much he was running up her electricity bill. Cat rearranged himself on his lap.

“Long day?” she asked, taking a seat next to him with a little sigh of relief of getting off her feet.

“A fifty hour long one, yeah.”

“Yikes. I didn’t want to wake you but didn’t want you to wake up with a crick in your neck. You’re too old to sleep on couches.”

He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck out, testing. A whole night probably would’ve left him slightly achy but… “Nothing I can’t handle. Anything you whippersnappers can do, I can do better.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” She grinned. “Worn out by feeding a cat.”

“Hey now, I played with this fella for a good fifteen minutes. Look, he’s as tired as I am.” As if to prove his point, Bellamy lifted one of Cat’s paws and let it drop. Cat simply glared at him, unmoving and unamused.

“Best cat sitter.”

After a moment of comfortable silence, sipping their drinks, Bellamy asked, “How weird was it to find me on your couch asleep?”

“Well, you do have a key and I did ask you over,” she pointed out. “So on a scale of one to ten? Probably only a three.”

“A three?”

“I always figured if I saw you asleep at my place, it’d be while in bed with me.” 

Bellamy nearly choked and glanced over at her. She was staring resolutely ahead at the tv, where some lady was frosting a cake. “Without even taking me out to dinner? Why, Clarke, what kind of gentleman do you take me for?” he drawled, pretending to be aghast. 

She smiled, although she still didn’t look at him. “You’re right, what could I have been thinking. You’re no common floozy.”

He cleared his throat. At this point, he was pretty certain of her answer but there was still that outlying chance. “When do you have a night off? Can I take you to dinner?”

“How would you feel about ordering a pizza right now?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes, as if in challenge.

“Moving fast. A woman who knows what she wants, I like that,” he teased, putting his cup down on the side table and reaching for his computer. “Yeah, that sounds good. What do you want on it? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who likes pineapple on it.”

She shoved his shoulder. “You know very well what I like on my pizza.” The leftover pizza she left in the fridge for him always had pineapple and ham.

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned goofily.

  
  


Once finals finished, Bellamy helped Clarke move out of her fancy apartment and into a more affordable one. A nice one-bedroom that she’d be sharing with two roommates, one of whom was small and furry. “Please tell me this is the last load,” he begged her. “How do you have so much stuff?”

“Would you believe me if I said half of it was Cat’s?”

“No.” He put the box he was carrying on the floor next to all the others and collapsed on the floor next to Cat’s crate, sticking his fingers through the barred door to scratch his chin. “We moved all my stuff in with only two trips.”

“That’s only because Octavia and Lincoln were helping. Besides, most of your stuff was books and that’s way worse to carry,” she pointed out, setting her box down on top and giving him a quick kiss. “But, yeah, there’s just one more box and a bag in the car. I’ll get it. Can you go ahead and order some pizza?”

“Sure. I know how you like it.”

“You sure do.”


End file.
